Parched Hearts

Caught me off side,
no words to rectify,
no verbal glue to mend

Coz I can't deceive you like a rhino's charge.
Reckless and large, no more can I bend the truth,
full proof, intoxicating like the liquor I imbibed.

Caught red handed in a jester's lie. Full tilt, racing on the jester's mile.

You think I have no regard for your heart.
You broke mine often enough, with your kind remarks.

I'm not used to being openly ugly,
and painted like an angel, with a gestural geniality.

Melancholy and malaise awake the need
to find melody in grain liquor, and unknown eventualities,
abstracted by the implosion of manifactured calm.

Melt my world into liquid, stick the needle in my arm.

I have more regard for your heart than you think.
But less regard for the truth than I thought.
I could probably rustle up the right retort.
I'm done with treating your heart like a hunter's sport.

I learnt to hustle, learnt to hide my banners.
Learnt to hide ugly truths behind assumed manners.
Learnt to present a lack of rhythm as a dancer's swagger.
Now even warm eyes reflect cold daggers.

Burnt bridges make us question destinations.
My heart in part, still believes in predestination.
But what does that mean for my current situation?

I'm walking with a limp inside the desert of my thoughts.
I've tasted the liquor you bottled and corked,
and richer waters too.

I know you'd share your canteen with me,
simply because I know your mind.

Even if I walked a different route,
You'd wait with parched lips,
as my steps were swallowed by the wind.